


Destiny -Folie a Duex Edition

by darkangel0410



Series: Destiny -Folie a Duex Edition [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkangel0410/pseuds/darkangel0410
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes there are two people who are so tied together, who's very essence are always searching for each other, who need each other the same way other people need air or water; that no matter the circumstances surrounding them, they will meet and they will change each other's lives. It's their destiny -it's as simple, and complicated, as that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Basically, this is just going to be random drabbles of the boys that I can't fit into any other stories or 'verses that I'm currently writing.

**Serial Killer 'verse:**

Patrick looked at the body splayed out in front of him; female, naked, age 22-27, red-hair. The body was face down, hiding the slit throat and multiple bruises that he knew were decorating her body. On the wall behind the victim there was a message scrawled: _**she wasnt you**_.

 

It was in the same handwriting as the notes that had started showing up on Patrick's desk on the first Saturday of every month. There was talk from the brass about pulling him off the case, that he was too involved in this; that he couldn't close the case.

 

Patrick couldn't even argue the point, he was too involved in this. The moment he had run into a stranger at a bar and proceeded to make out with him against the wall of said bar, had been the beginning of the end of his life as he had known it.

 

He hadn't known, then, who Pete Wentz was; it had been the first week of January and only the second body had shown up, there had been barely enough time to establish that it was a serial, never mind time to get the profile hammered out.

 

All he had known was that he was inexplicably drawn to Pete, the guy he kept running into at the bar he went a couple days a week after work. They always ended up at the same table in the back, only the two of them, with Pete pressed close to Patrick's side.

 

It was one of the first things Patrick had noticed about Pete -he had no concept of personal space and he invaded Patrick's like it was his personal right. And Patrick...let him. No one else ever even tried it -Patrick had a quick right hook and he wasn't afraid to use it- but with Pete, it was different, right from the start. He let Pete touch him pretty much however he wanted.

 

They would have a couple drinks, talk for hours and then make out in the alley for a good thirty minutes before Pete would pull away from Patrick and tell him he should head home. Patrick usually found himself obeying before he even realized it; he had to get up early, anyway, so it was usually floating around in his mind that he needed sleep to begin with.

 

Once or twice, he had hesitantly asked Pete if he had wanted to go back to his apartment -Patrick wasn't a virgin, hadn't been one since Alicia Destenado crawled on top of him when he was thirteen, but something about Pete (and that was one thing that never changed for Patrick, that indefinable _something_ that always hung around Pete Wentz) made him feel that same nervousness again- but Pete had just grinned at him, all crinkly eyed and completely captivating, and told him, “Not yet, 'Trick -you're almost there, but I _need_ you to be ready for the next level. And when we're there... We'll be nothing anyone's ever seen before.”

 

It wasn't until he started getting the notes at his desk and with the bodies, that Patrick finally put it together; and even that was because they had managed to get a surveillance picture of the lower arm of the person who dumped the eighth body. It was grainy and in black and white, but Patrick would recognize those tattoos any where.

 

He didn't say anything to any of the other detectives that were working the case, not even his partner Joe Trohman. He just stared at it for almost a full minute before shaking his head and agreeing with the people clustered around his desk on it being the killer.

 

When Patrick saw Pete that night, he was outside of the bar, an amused smirk twisting his lips as Patrick walked up to him.

 

“You. It's you,” Patrick said and he couldn't keep the betrayal out of his voice.

 

“Of course,” Pete answered as he turned and walked into an alley that Patrick knew as well as his own living room.

 

“Who else would be able to keep your attention the way I do?” Pete questioned, spreading his arms and indicating the rest of the city.

 

“Who else understands you? Who else knows your talents, knows that you're just settling here? Settling for an average, normal life -when it's obvious that you're destined for greater things. Obvious that you were meant for me, meant to help me spread my message. You're just meant to be my everything, Patrick.

 

“We were destined to find each other, to complete each other. As soon as I saw you by the first one, I knew it,” Pete told him, his voice dropping low enough to send shivers down Patrick's spine.

 

He turned to where Patrick was standing, his hands fisted at his sides. Pete offered his own hand to him, palm up.

 

“We would be great, 'Trick, I can feel it,” Pete said, his voice soft and contemplative. “We both need this; I know it and you know it. The question is: can you take the final step to me? Can you let go of everything -and one- else and be wholly committed to this life?”

 

There was a long, drawn out pause before Patrick placed his hand in Pete's and followed him into the dark alley.

 

“You'll never regret this, Patrick,” he had murmured later when he had Patrick pinned beneath him, his hands trapped in his own handcuffs and Pete was whispering his undiluted message into Patrick's willing ears. “You and me, we're going to be golden. They're going to look at what we have and fucken seethe with jealousy that they don't have it.”

 

After that, Patrick still went to work and he still did his job, but he had a very different agenda in mind now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this one's based very loosely on Star Trek's Mirror 'verse -a canon AU, in case you were curious. Basically, everyone there looks the same as they do in the original, but they're evil. Like, completely, gone. As in 'oh-let's-blow-up-this-planet-filled-with-twenty-billion-beings-because-they-refused-to-join-the-Empire-and-then-grab-a-bite-to-eat-because-I'm-feeling-a-little-peckish' type of evil. It occurred to me that doing a Mirror 'verse version of the Sixteen Candles AU would be a fun time.

**A Little Less Sixteen Candles (A Little More Touch Me) Mirror 'verse AU:**

Pete hung back in the alleyway outside of the abandoned building that his former bandmates were using as a home base. They moved as fast as they could, but considering they were all only human, it wasn't very fast at all.

 

It had been six months since Pete had been turned; five and a half since Joe and Andy had completely written him out of their lives. As far as they were concerned Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III had died on that dark night Beckett had jumped him as he left the club they were playing.

 

But Patrick... Patrick was a completely different story; even after Pete had gotten bitten and it had become obvious that there was no way that Pete could control his demon without human blood, Patrick had never stopped being _Patrick_. He still answered his phone whenever Pete called him, sang to him whenever he annoyed Patrick enough for him to cave in; they still texted each other incessantly, Patrick was still the person he always thought of when he woke up or when he saw something funny. Or, hell, when he was bored and wanted someone to annoy.

 

That part of Pete's personality hadn't changed when he did; that urge to be next to Patrick, as often as possible, it had just gotten sharper, more aggressive. And he was more willing to fuck everyone else over if it meant he got Patrick at the end of the night.

 

They didn't hang out together any more -which just made Pete feel more desperate to get his hands on Patrick. Pete knew Joe and Andy were constantly reminding him that Pete wasn't himself any more -that he was a monster, a demon who fed on humans to survive. They told Patrick he could never forget that, he had to remember his best friend was gone and he wasn't ever coming back. Hell, Pete knew for a fact that they didn't even like Patrick talking to him; he could hear the muttered whispers when he was on the phone with Patrick no matter how loudly Patrick talked in an attempt to cover them up.

 

Pete could understand their concern; he wasn't human any more. He could -and had- ripped people apart for looking at him the wrong way. He fed on blood as often as he had to -and sometimes when he was just bored and couldn't get a hold of Patrick. He killed indiscriminatingly and on a whim, usually gleefully.

 

So, yeah, Pete could understand their desire to keep him as far away as possible, but only to a certain extent. It made his blood boil that they thought he would ever hurt Patrick the way he did nameless people who didn't mean anything to him. Patrick was his everything, always had been -even if he had refused to see it while he was still human. But now that he was different, his brain was willing to accept what he had always known instinctively: Patrick was _his_ , only his, and they were meant to be together, in every way possible. And if Pete had to sacrifice the rest of his old friends for it, then so be it. When it came to Patrick, the ends would always justify the means.

 

Pete glanced up at the moon and winced internally when he saw how late it was getting; Beckett had given him a few hours to get Patrick out before he attacked the house. Pete didn't run with Beckett or the Dandies, but he did jobs for them once in a while, if they needed someone to get in and out of a place quickly. Pete knew Beckett was surprised by how strong he already was; offering this favor to Pete would go a long way with him and Beckett knew it. You never could tell when having someone owe you would come in handy and that went double for vampires.

 

When Patrick came outside, his bag with his Macbook and other necessities slung over his back, Pete smiled at the sight, his fangs resting briefly on his lower lip as Patrick's scent hit him.

 

“Patrick,” Pete called out before he got distracted by Patrick just being there -which happened fairly often, Pete had to admit. He figured that could wait until later, after everything settled down.

 

“Pete?” Patrick asked as he took a hesitant step toward him. Even without being able to see in the dark, Pete thought he would have been able to see the grin that was crossing his face.

 

“'Course, it's me, fucker,” Pete answered, stepping from the darkest part of the alleyway to where the streetlight was visible. “You think anyone else would be out here stalking your ass?”

 

Without waiting for answer, Pete wrapped himself around Patrick and buried his nose in his neck and inhaled. Patrick hugged him back and his own breath was a little shaky as he exhaled.

 

“I missed you, 'Trick,”Pete murmured before he pulled back and looked at him.

 

“Yeah, I missed you, too, Pete,” Patrick assured him, blushing a little and rearranging his hat. “But what are you doing here? Joe and Andy -”

 

“I want you to come with me,” Pete interrupted, his fingers closing around Patrick's wrist and tugging lightly.

 

“What? For the night?” Patrick asked, slightly confused; but Pete was looking into his eyes and he was almost positive he saw something possessive flicker there for a second.

 

“No, for good, for forever,” Pete said, stressing the last word. “Come with me, please, 'Trick.”

 

“I don't...” Patrick trailed off before looking over his shoulder and sighed. “I'm human, Pete, I couldn't even if I wanted to.”

 

“That's your problem? Seriously?” Pete scoffed and tugged on his arm again as he started walking backwards. “You think I would keep myself a vampire for all of eternity if I was going to be alone? Like there's a chance I would ever be selfless enough to let you die without me.”

 

Patrick searched his face and Pete knew he could see everything he wasn't saying in that moment; _please, don't make me do this without you, I need you, you were always the best part of me, I don't want to be alone, pleasepleaseplease_.

 

“Yeah,” Patrick answered, finally feeling like he was settled for the first time since he had found Pete half dead on a sidewalk six months ago. “Yeah.”

 

“Yeah?” Pete repeated, grinning. He pulled Patrick close enough to drop a quick kiss on his lips.

 

It was different from all the other friendly kisses Pete had given him, different in a way that had nothing to do with the fact that one of them was dead.

 

“We'll be the stuff of legends,” Pete went on, lacing his fingers with his best friend's and leading him towards Pete's new apartment.

 

“Right,” Patrick said, rolling his eyes and smirking. “I think I can settle for just being us.”

 

Pete thought that was the best idea he ever heard.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> His Dark Materials fusion.

Patrick was in the kitchen when Natasha let out a soft cry, the one she used when there were strangers at the door.

 

“Someone's at the door, Patrick,” the daemon said in her usual low voice seconds before there was a polite knock on the front door; Patrick ran a finger affectionately over her head as he passed by her perch on his way to greet whoever was knocking.

 

**_Don't act so dense; it's not a good look for you,_** 'Tasha snapped, more annoyed with the fact that she was molting than with her human's assumed stupidity. **_We both know who's on the porch, you've been thinking about him non-stop since we met Joe and Zara._**

 

Patrick rolled his eyes and walked to the door, a tentative smile already on his face; Natasha was right, of course -Patrick had been dreading and looking forward to today in equal measures all week. It didn't help that he could vividly remember staring up at Pete screaming on stage with Arma Angelus, 'Tasha wrapped around his neck as a garter snake, both of them equally fascinated with the older man.

 

Natasha had tried, in vain, to catch a glimpse of Pete's daemon; she had muttered to him the rumors about her being some sort of dog, but she stubbornly refused to stop looking until she could see for herself. It had gotten harder to go to shows when she had settled as a Peregrine Falcon late last year, but Patrick knew that she was still just as determined as ever to see the daemon.

 

_**That's what's got you so worked up, isn't it?**_ Patrick mused as he worked open the locks. _**You're pissy because you finally get to meet Pete Wentz's daemon and your molting. Vain much, 'Tash?**_

 

Natasha huffed at him and went back to combing her loose feathers out with her beak and claws; Patrick snickered to himself and focused on the figures crowding his front door.

 

“Hey, I'm Pete,” Pete offered his hand, a self-depreciating smirk twisting his lips when Patrick blinked at the daemon pressed against his left side; her head came up to just past Pete's waist and she was broad through the shoulders, stocky, a build more suited for brawling than anything else. Her fur was gray and white, black tips on her ears and sprinkled along her muzzle. Patrick had the brief thought that if this daemon was a dog than Natasha was a robin.

 

Ignoring the resulting grumble from his daemon at the comparison, Patrick focused back on the guy standing in front of him, surprised to see that he was only a couple inches taller than he was. “Hey, I'm Patrick,” Patrick told him as he shook Pete's hand and opened the door enough for them to come inside.

 

Pete frowned a little as they walked inside; he glanced back down at his daemon before he seemed to come to a conclusion and smiled at Patrick, more naturally this time. “This is Mingan,” he offered, scratching her behind the ear.

 

“Hello,” Patrick said pleasantly when the wolf (because what else could she be?) daemon focused her attention on him; he was struck by the sudden urge to pet her, which was kind of disturbing because he had never wanted to touch someone else's daemon in his life, it just wasn't done. “That's Natasha,” he told them, waving a hand to indicate where 'Tasha was perched.

 

“Ignore her if she seems pissy,” Patrick added with a mischievous gleam in his eye. “She's molting and it's put her in a bad mood.”

 

“Ah, I feel your pain,” Pete grinned. “Min's unbearable when she's shedding in the summer.”

 

“Shut your mouth, infant,” Mingan told him primly as she delicately touched her nose to Natasha's beak in greeting.

 

The humans shared a laugh and Mingan looked the teenager over contemplatively. _**I like them,**_ she informed Pete. _**They aren't afraid of us.**_

 

_**I know,**_ Pete agreed. _**But you usually don't like people this quickly, not even Andy. What gives?**_

 

Min ignored him in favor of settling along the floor just in front of the other daemon's perch.

 

He mentally rolled his eyes at her refusal to answer; he looked over the kid in front of him for a minute before he made up his mind.

 

“Joe said you wanted to try out for the band?”


End file.
